


What We Used to Be

by livingwithmermaids



Series: Hinting At Something Different [189]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angry Sam, Episode: s09e14 Captives, Hopeful Ending, Lonely Dean, M/M, Past Cuddling & Snuggling, Sad Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-26
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-04-17 08:19:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4659423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livingwithmermaids/pseuds/livingwithmermaids
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam stopped talking to him voluntarily after Kevin left.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What We Used to Be

**Author's Note:**

> Season 9 episode 14 Captives

Sam stopped talking to him voluntarily after Kevin left.

He figured it had something to do with his pride being hurt, because a fucking ghost was able to call them out on their bullshit and even though Dean did feel incredibly guilty, he couldn't help feeling a bit smug that he wasn't the only one who thought Sam was being irrational.

In the morning when Dean sat at the table with his coffee and the sports section of an old newspaper he found stashed under his bed, Sam stood so quickly the his chair almost toppled over. He refused to look at him as he hurried down the hall.

Dean could feel the vibrations from Sam slamming his bedroom door.

~

Sam had stopped sleeping in Dean's room soon after he found out about Gadreel, and as the weeks stretched on, it just got harder and harder to sleep. The scent of his brother was getting overwhelmed by dust and his tears, and Dean felt so alone.

Much to Dean's embarrassment, he really enjoyed being the little spoon. He liked being held and cared for because he always had to be the leader. Letting Sam pressing himself against his back and nuzzle his nose in his hair made him feel so loved and so safe, and Sam didn't seem to mind a bit. So when things got really bad and he couldn't stop hiccupping and sniffling into his pillow, he would close his eyes and try to imagine his brother's arms around him, draping himself over him and just letting Dean feel his heartbeat against his back. Sometimes, he imagined Sam telling him that he loved him in that sleepy voice he had, yawning halfway through the sentence like he always did.

Usually, imagination wasn't enough.

~

From the time Sam was born, Dean was trained to study and analyze every move he made. No matter how much time his brother spent locked up in his room, no matter how much effort he put into not meeting his eyes, Dean still scanned him, just out of habit. Sometimes, he wishes he could stop.

It was obvious that Sam hadn't been sleeping, the circles under his eyes looking darker then his own. He wanted, so badly to just force Sam into bed and make him sleep. That was something he could do when Sam actually wanted Dean to touch him. Now he just had to sit by and let Sam read the same page in his book over and over again.

Something Dean had never considered was that Sam made his own observations when he looked his brother over. He could see it in his eyes when they had their short conversations, and he regretted not washing his face more thoroughly because he could feel Sam studying the barely-there tear tracks running down his cheeks.

Sam didn't say anything, but his let his shoulder graze Dean's as he passed him, and that was enough.

~

The lights in his alarm clock were purple. Dean liked purple, especially dark purple. When he saw the square alarm clock at some sad thrift store, he was quick to get it before the old women eyeing it could snatch it from the shelves. She gave him a dirty look and Sam had to apologize for him.

Sam liked it too. He always said that he liked that the alarm clock was so close to Dean's head that hints of the purple light would spill on Dean's face and give him purple skin. Now, he felt like it waste broken, because every minute seemed to go on forever.

He was so focused on willing the numbers on his clock to change that he almost didn't feel the way his mattress dipped. He could feel the heat radiating from his brother, and it took everything he had not to press back into him.

"This doesn't change anything."

The words stabbed him in the gut, but he still couldn't help smiling. 

"Welcome home."

 


End file.
